


Armor Falls

by winterwaters



Series: At The Beginning [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Misunderstandings, Second Chances, the cheesecake factory AU continued, unintentional sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4516590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their revelations at The Cheesecake Factory, Raven and Wick navigate the rest of the evening together, and Wick slowly but surely chips away at the walls Raven has put up.</p><p>Sequel to Play It Good and Right - the Wicken edition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Armor Falls

**Author's Note:**

> A few people requested some expansion on the Raven/Wick portion of Play It Good and Right, so I decided to give it a go. It's my first time writing these two as the main event, so hope it works! Probably makes sense to read that one first to get their backstory, because I sort of just dive in here. Title from State of Grace by TSwift.  
> Hope you enjoy! Would love to hear your thoughts, here or on Tumblr :)

Raven Reyes does not get butterflies. 

It’s a simple fact, just like the fact that two plus two will always equal four, a mojito at Grounders will always be six dollars (steal), and the corner of 16th and Carlisle will always house the weird little thrift shop called _Trikru_ and its female owner who looks like she can take you out with a fingernail.

And yet-- whatever strange feeling has taken over Raven's stomach is awfully unfamiliar, and totally befitting the description of butterflies. Even though it’s not. At all.

She decides to attribute it to the nachos Clarke served them back at the restaurant. _Yeah, Reyes. Because_ gas _is your problem._

She sighs. Clarke Griffin is an evil genius.

Raven would rather leave out the “genius” part, or replace it with a multitude of other words, but it’s hard to deny. Seeing as the fierce little blonde single-handedly orchestrated a meeting, an argument, and a freaking _date_ all in one session. And quite possibly secured herself some dessert, judging by the way Wick’s friend was staring all mesmerized when they left.

Speaking of Kyle Wick.

He’s been staring at her for a little over a minute now, ever since he reached for her hand about a block and a half from the restaurant and she didn’t knock it away. She, meanwhile, is looking everywhere but him, despite the fact that nothing in this city is new to her anymore. Still, she can’t help but linger on their intertwined fingers, wondering how such a simple action can send her entire body into a spiral. 

Logically, it shouldn’t be possible. They’re just holding hands after all, even freaking kindergartners hold hands, and god knows she’s done more than that with others, with _him,_ and yet-- 

She _likes_ it. A lot.

Raven likes a lot of things about Wick, actually. She likes hearing his dumb chemistry pick up lines _(Do you have 11 protons? Because you’re sodium fiiiine),_ mostly since he knows better than to actually use them; she likes that he’s honest about his hatred of pulp in orange juice and seeds in bread; she likes how his thumb is stroking the back of her hand.

“Raven?”

She looks up from her half-bitten fingernail into his questioning brown eyes. He smiles easily. “Left or right?”

“Huh?” Her head turns, just now noticing the crosswalk. “Oh, across. Then left.”

“Alright.” He starts to move again, and she falls into step beside him naturally, just like she did on their first date when they walked to his truck after dinner, just like she had when he insisted on walking her the extra block to her place despite the fact that she’d just been in his lap, mouth furiously working against his.

Ugh. His mouth is unfairly inviting at all times.

“So are you excited to be graduating soon?” He asks, bringing her out of her thoughts. It’s a safe question, a safe topic, much like he’s been sticking to all evening after their little revelation at The Cheesecake Factory. She’s grateful for it.

“Yeah, I’m ready to be done with school. I mean, the lab was great and all, but there’s so much more out there, you know?”

He nods. “You said you’ve already got a job lined up right?”

Raven peeks through her lashes again as they halt at another light. She’d told him that on their second date - several weeks ago now.

“Yeah,” she says after a moment. “My internship last summer with Sinclair went really well, and we kept in touch. He’s going to take me on as an associate after I graduate. I’ll be sharing a space with two others, but it’s a start.”

“That’s awesome. Good for you, Raven.”

She smiles up at him. There’s warmth in his gaze, always, and it used to make her uncomfortable but now it’s more steadying than anything else.

“So,” she begins, “how are you going to try to top last year’s demos with the freshman?”

Wick chuckles. “It’s gonna be tough. It doesn’t get much better than flaming ice.” They turn onto a crowded sidewalk, and he lets go of her hand briefly only to slide his arm over her shoulders, holding her against him as they maneuver through all the people. Raven’s brain sends alarm signals practically on autopilot, but this time something overrides them and she relaxes into him, surprising them both. 

When they’re free of the crowd, he brushes a piece of stray hair behind her ear, but doesn’t let go.

“I’m thinking of trying a new thing this semester,” he continues. “You know the show Mythbusters?”

“Far too well,” she replies dryly. She used to watch it for days on end during high school, fascinated by each new bit of trivia she could learn.

“I kinda want to do something like that, like have the kids write down their top three myths or things related to chemistry, and then spend the semester completing each of the three? Maybe three’s too ambitious. Top two out of three. Or whichever one the school agrees to pay for.” Wick grins. “But I want to see what they come up with, you know? Their minds are awesome, when they’re allowed to think about more than the next test.” 

He gets more excited as he speaks, and it’s so endearing that Raven’s halfway to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before she even realizes it.

Her lips touch his skin for no more than a second, and yet it feels monumental in that weird way that small actions do sometimes.

He stands frozen for about six seconds, mouth hanging open mid-sentence until she taps his jaw shut and leads him across the street, thankful for the huge neon lettering that signals their destination. In the tall glass windows, she sees their reflection, and almost wants to roll her eyes at her work uniform again - the gold sweater vest over the white button-up shirt, denim skirt that goes exactly to her knees. At least she can get away with wearing her Alice in Zombieland hoodie when Anya’s not on shift.

Wick recovers enough to hold the door open, his hand resting on the small of her back and sending shivers up her spine. She hopes he doesn’t notice. The door chimes above, a merry tinkle that results in a yell from the back.

“Hello, welcome to Igloo-- Raven!”

Monty pops out of the back, cheerful as ever, until his eyes land on Wick behind her. The smile disappears faster than she’s ever known possible.

“How can I help you?” He asks, suddenly frosty.

“So that’s why Clarke sent us here,” Wick mutters. Raven grins to herself. _Take a bow, evil genius._

Stepping forward, she leans her elbows on the counter. “Misunderstanding,” she says quietly. “He’s alright.”

Monty’s eyes lock onto hers for a long moment. “You sure?”

Raven allows herself a brief, happy smile, and nods.

He makes a small “Mmm” in his throat, but eases up. “You guys can help yourselves. Pay when you’re done.” Looking over her shoulder, he arches a stern eyebrow at Wick. “I’m watching you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Wick replies, mildly amused.

Raven tugs at his sleeve. “Come on. They have that weird cheesecake one you like here.” 

“Birthday cake?”

“Sure.” 

He laughs softly, but stares at her a moment too long. No doubt curious that she remembered such a detail. She wonders if he would be surprised at just how much she remembers about him. 

Suddenly defensive, she just glares, grabbing her own cup and moving down the line to the Oreo flavor. It’s a favorite - but also kind of necessary for her sanity at the moment. She’s adding peanut butter when she feels Wick at her back.

“Oreos and peanut butter?” He’s smiling. “Like in The Parent Trap?”

She lifts a shoulder. “Maybe.”

He doesn’t bother with another flavor, just heads straight for the toppings, immediately adding sprinkles and a healthy dollop of chocolate sauce. Raven adds only chocolate chips, shaking her head while he licks his fingers like a kid.

Monty rings them up politely, adding a green spoon to Wick’s cup and a purple spoon to Raven’s. Though, he’s not above dropping one or two pointed remarks about Miller’s karate progress - “He’ll be a black belt in two months” - and then asking all too casually if Wick knows Maya, who happens to work at his school.

“She teaches Civics, I think that’s what Jasper said.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Third floor, room 309,” he adds, as if to remind Wick he’s being watched everywhere. 

But Wick only thanks him and leaves a tip in the jar on the counter, reaching for Raven’s hand again on the way out. 

They find a bench and sit down to polish off their fro-yo. She keeps a few inches of space between them at first. He doesn’t seem to mind, just shoves a few spoonfuls of yogurt into his mouth and sags a little, content. 

“You look like you haven’t had fro-yo in weeks,” she teases.

“That’s because I haven’t.”

Raven puts a hand to her heart in mock outrage. “Sacrilege.”

“That so?” He grins, cheeky. “Clearly I need someone to straighten me out.” 

She fights her own smile, turning back to her fro yo. Without warning, his spoon hovers in front of her mouth. She starts a little, then takes a bite and hums in approval at the burst of flavor, licking her lips. Scooping out some of hers, she offers it to him.

“Not bad,” he says after. 

“I’m going to pretend that means fucking awesome.” 

Wick chuckles. “So tell me more about your senior project. Something about a brace, right?” 

She hesitates, but the genuine curiosity on his face wins out. “Yeah. There’s a few existing types, but I’m focusing on the one used mostly commonly for veterans who can’t move their lower limbs." The words begin spilling out more quickly as she explains what she has in mind. "I think it can be a lot better, with some adjustments. Maybe even repurposed for the pediatric population. Clarke’s been volunteering at the VA for the past year, and when she talked about the rehab she saw them go through, the idea just took hold. I started working on the proposal last summer and showed it to my advisor a month ago.”

"That's ambitious," he comments. "In a great way." 

"Yeah, I have to narrow the focus for now, but I'm thinking if I ever go back for my Master's it could really take off."

He listens attentively, interrupting to ask questions more than once, and she remembers again that this was why she’d liked him so much. He’s intelligent - and yeah, cocky at times - but it makes their conversations engaging, keeps her on her toes. She likes being able to teach him things, and she likes learning from him too-- not that she’ll say it out loud. His ego doesn’t need to get bigger. 

When Wick rises to toss his cup in the trash, she pauses, realizing it’s the most she’s spoken all evening. When he sits back down, his knee is flush against hers, his arm flung across the back of the bench.

“Keep going,” he encourages softly.

It’s only natural to lean back into the cradle of his body, turn her cheek to rest on his shoulder. He plays with the end of her ponytail as she talks, and when her story trails off, he doesn’t force words into the silence, just sits there with his arm around her as the city bustles on around them.

~~~~~~~~~

Long after her fro-yo is gone, they finally uncurl themselves from the bench. Raven throws out her cup, and then they stand on the sidewalk doing an awkward shuffle as they both try to figure out what comes next.

“So, um,” Wick clears his throat, “can I walk you home?”

“Actually I think I’m gonna go to Clarke’s, we were going to hang out tonight anyways.” Raven waits just a second, then adds, “You can come to the bus stop, if you have nothing better to do.”

He grins, but quickly scrunches his brow. “Wait, which bus are you taking?”

“The 42. She lives out in Sky Hill, so…” she tilts her head as his grin returns, wider than ever. “What?”

“I have to pick up my truck from Bellamy’s sister. Who lives in Sky Hill.” 

Well. _Seriously?_

“Seriously.” Wick chuckles as she jumps, not realizing she spoke aloud. “She had a bunch of errands to run, so I told her to just take my car for the day. She has all these ideas for a new class project and she needs to go to like every store for supplies.” He waves a hand. “Anyways, I figured I’d be with Bellamy for the day. Told her I’d come by tonight.”

Raven can’t help it; she laughs, kind of in disbelief at the universe. And maybe a bit glad the evening isn’t over just yet. When Wick holds out his hand, she takes it.

Which is how they find themselves stepping onto the over-crowded bus, squeezing through people with muttered _sorrys_ and _excuse me’s_ until they’re near the back. Wick nudges her into an empty seat, but instead of plopping down next to her, he motions to an elderly lady to sit instead. 

He stands right in front of her, a long arm stretched up to hang on to the banister, swaying with the bus’ movement. As the bus rolls slowly through the city, he watches the scenery pass by, and Raven takes the opportunity to study him. His expression is deceptively lazy, but she knows him well enough to see past it. He's processing things, just like she is. Her eyes drift to his shoulders; black ink peeks out from the sleeve of his t-shirt. She’s seen the whole design up close, trailed her fingers over the fleur-de-lis on his bicep as he spoke of his mom’s near obsession with the symbol, his voice raw with affection. She’s felt that same arm wrap around her while they kissed, and to her surprise, it stayed banded around her as they slept.

She’s not sure what frightens her more - the fact that she fell asleep so quickly, or that she didn’t want to leave after waking up, only two dates in. To be fair, though, that had been a pretty spectacular morning once he woke. Neither of them were shy in bed, that was for certain. But it's the thought of him burning pancakes at the stove afterwards, swatting at her every time she snuck a lick of the batter, that makes her smile.

 _So domestic,_ Clarke had teased later. Raven knew she meant it in a good way, but the words stuck with her, made her more nervous than she could ever remember, and so when things went downhill she just assumed she should have known better.

Except, Kyle has turned out to be more stubborn than she gave him credit for. 

And now he’s here, having withstood Clarke and Harper and even Monty, and he doesn’t seem too fazed. She can’t decide if it’s brave or stupid. Maybe both.

She doesn’t realize she’s smiling until she notices a similar smile form on his face as he ducks his head. The realization hits her late. He wasn’t looking out the window - he was looking at the reflection.

At her, watching him. 

Her face burns, and she almost wants to sink lower in her seat. So she does the opposite.

When they come to the next stop, she stands up quickly to let others sit, moving close to Wick. His left arm stays up high for balance; the other hand settles on her waist to steady her as the bus rattles and jumps over uneven pavement. She can feel his breath on her ear, and it’s easy to lean back, to feel the solid press of his chest up against her back. His arm shifts to loop more securely around her stomach, and she smiles. 

More passengers board before they leave downtown to head to the outer neighborhoods, so they stay wedged together in their small corner for more than a few minutes. 

“Two stops to go,” Wick murmurs into her ear. His mouth curves up as she jumps in surprise, goosebumps breaking out on her skin. She makes a face at him in the reflection, and he makes one right back.

Raven is a little relieved when their stop arrives, because his proximity was starting to make her feel a bit drunk, and as much as she likes that she’s also not ready to give up that much control any time soon. 

They head for the housing complex down the street, and Raven spots the battered blue truck quickly, her face heating up uncharacteristically fast as she thinks of everything that already happened inside-- and the things she still wants to try. It’s stupid that she still remembers the tear in the fabric under the passenger seat and the grey plush pug outfitted in a Red Sox jersey on his dash and the Greatest Hits of Johnny Cash CD on the floor, but she does.

Wick rings the bell for an apartment on the fourth floor and soon a girl’s voice chimes through. “Took you long enough!”

“Shush and give me my keys,” he replies.

A minute later, the brunette hops out the doorway. The fading sunlight glints off the row of piercings on her earlobe, and where her shirt slips off her left shoulder Raven can see the edges of a tattoo curling up and over onto her collarbone like vines. 

Unbidden, a memory springs to mind. Kyle, lying beside her and tracing the roman numerals along her spine. Though her face is buried in the pillow, she tenses, waiting for the inevitable question. But it never comes. Instead, his lips follow his fingers, reverent, and she finds herself swallowing the lump in her throat.

A tap from Wick brings her back to the present. “Give me a sec?” He says lowly. She nods. 

Octavia has stopped several feet away, arms crossed, eyeing Raven much as Monty eyed Wick earlier. It’s enough that Raven begins to see that her hasty actions had more consequences than she realized. She’s not sorry about it - Kyle is the exception more than the rule - but she will explain, if she gets the chance. 

He squeezes her hand once, then pulls Octavia aside and exchanges a few quick words. Raven watches the girl’s expression change from skepticism to understanding in just a few minutes.

Then Octavia exhales, and says, “Well, fuck me,” and she grins. Wick ruffles her hair and heads for the truck. 

Raven hangs back an extra second, feeling that Octavia might have something to get off her chest. But the girl only sticks out her hand.

“Nice to meet you finally.” 

“You too.” Raven doesn’t try to make small talk. She’s never been that great at it. Octavia, thankfully, is smooth enough for both of them.

“You guys should come by one Sunday to watch the game with us. Wick said you’re a football fan, right?”

“Since I was a kid.”

“Good. So I’ll see you around,” Octavia says firmly. Then, lowering her voice, she steps closer. “Look, I know it’s hard to believe, but… next time you have an issue, just talk to him, alright? He’s a good guy.”

Not knowing what to say, Raven just nods and manages a quick “thanks,” before hurrying to catch up with Wick.

~~~~~~~~~

Other than her offering the occasional directions, it’s a silent trip to Clarke’s place. She can’t help but be wrapped in her thoughts, endless as they are. The seat is as worn and comfy as she remembers, and it’s second nature to curl her feet under her skirt, leaving her flats on the floor. When the truck finally slows to a stop, idling at the end of the block, she hesitates, then turns to him.

“Listen, I--” she begins, at the same time that he says, “Raven--”

They both stop, then grin sheepishly. “You first,” Wick says.

Raven plays with the strings of her hoodie, unsure where to start. “I didn’t-- I really never thought tonight would turn out like this.” 

When the words seem to stick in her throat, Wick ventures, “Is that a bad thing?”

She shakes her head quickly, and he smiles, relieved. “I didn’t think it would either,” he says, “but it’s because I was afraid to even imagine getting this far. I just wanted to talk to you again.”

“I’m not going to apologize,” she blurts out, raising her eyes to his. “I won’t. I was looking out for myself. There’s no way I could have known about Octavia--”

Wick reaches out and takes her hand, already shaking his head. “I’m not asking you to apologize. You’re right, you had no way to know. Hell, if I’d seen a picture of you with some guy I’d have been pissed too.” Pausing, he adds, “I wish you’d come to me, though. I know why you didn’t,” he says, holding up a hand to stop her protest. “I get it, I do.”

“I asked him,” she says quietly, looking at his hand atop hers. “I asked him, and he lied to my face.”

“Raven, stop.” Wick lifts her chin with a gentle finger. “I’m not interested in making you relive that shit, alright? It happened, and it sucks, and if I ever come across him I’ll be sure to let him know how I feel about it.” His eyes are hard. “But I want to be very clear about this. I’m not him. You can trust me.”

His face falls when he sees her expression. “You don’t believe me,” he says flatly.

She tightens her grip on his hand before he can remove it. “I want to,” she insists. “I really want to. That’s more than I’ve been able to say about anyone, and… it scares me.”

Wick looks at her for a long time. Finally a corner of his mouth crooks upwards.

“Didn’t think you scared that easily,” he drawls, and she relaxes, because it means he's not going anywhere, and she's so, so damn thankful for that. He leans closer. “For what it’s worth, I like you. A lot. And I think you might not hate me,” he winks. “I think we can make this work.”

Raven's never been great with words to begin with. So she closes the gap and presses her lips to his. Even though it's chaste and a bit hasty, he’s beaming when she pulls back.

“Good night Kyle,” she says, hopping out.

“Sweet dreams, Raven.”

She rolls her eyes and pretends to gag, heading for the door as his laughter rings out behind her. She presses the buzzer for 3A, bouncing on her toes, but then someone holds the door open on their way out, so she slips inside and waves to Wick before hurrying up the stairs. Several sharp taps to Clarke’s door result in silence.

Puzzled, she calls her friend’s name a few times, knocks again. Still nothing. So she pulls her phone from her bag and dials.

Clarke picks up after a couple rings. “Raven! Hey, what-"

“Are you not home yet?”

“What?” Clarke sounds utterly confused. “How do you even-”

“I’m outside your door,” she says impatiently. 

“Hang on, I’m putting you on speaker.”

Raven doesn’t hesitate. “Where the hell are you?” She’s a bit concerned, except that Clarke sounds too happy for anything truly bad to have happened.

“Uh…” Clarke laughs nervously. “In Bellamy’s car. Wick’s friend, I don’t know if you remember…” Oh, she most certainly _does_ remember. “Anyways, we broke down about halfway to my place, on the back roads. There was an accident on Route 46 as usual.”

Raven pauses for a bit, processing that her friend willingly got into a car with the guy she just met. He must have made a hell of an impression. Her next words are purposeful.

“Well damn. Good for you for jumping on that.”

A small snort of laughter filters through the phone, along with a muffled groan.

”Raven!” Clarke hisses. “Speaker, damnit. Come on. Anyways, where are you?”

“I’m at your place. I told Wick to drop me off here since I thought you’d be home already.”

“Oh. Shit. When did Wick leave? Can you call him?”

 _What the--?_ Bellamy cuts in. “Hi Raven. Did Wick already pick up his truck?”

“Yeah,” she says slowly. “That’s how we got here. Picked it up on the way.”

“Can you get a hold of him and tell him to head out to Sadler Road with an extra canister of gas? We’re just past mile marker 12.”

Ohhhh. “I’m on it.”

She can’t decide whether she wants to throttle or hug Clarke for making her have to call Wick back. It’s really not fair. _Evil genius strikes again._

Wick answers on the first ring, positively chipper. “Missed me already?” 

“You wish,” she retorts, though it’s not as forceful as she’d like. “I need a favor. Or rather, our loser friends need a favor.” 

Raven can see his grin from a mile away when his truck turns the corner. Blatantly ignoring him, she climbs back into the seat and latches her seatbelt. Still, they don’t move for a solid minute, during which she studies her chipped purple nail polish, the Red Sox puppy on the dashboard, the odd sauce stain at the hem of her shirt-- everything but his face. He’s silent, for a change, but his eyes bore into her all the same.

When she can take it no longer, she finally looks up. “Did you forget how to drive, or something?”

Kyle plants both hands on either side of her face and pulls her to him, and as she clutches at his shoulders and opens her mouth under his, she registers the sweetness of birthday cake and gets a little dizzy.

“Or something,” he says afterwards, smug as shit.

She punches him, but can’t hide from her own smiling reflection.

~~~~~~~~~

When they pull up to the stalled grey Jeep, the first thing Raven notices is Clarke’s flushed face, the way her hands are waving around as she talks, clearly in the midst of a story. She’s wearing a dark oversized hoodie that Raven is willing to bet belongs to the boy in the driver’s seat. Bellamy’s arm rests on the open window. He has eyes only for her, and when his head tilts back in laughter, Clarke positively beams.

Wick honks his horn briefly, then hops out to meet Bellamy. Clarke waves, her expression becoming slightly defiant as Raven saunters over to the passenger side, slinging her elbows over the open window to chat.

“Took a little bit home for dessert, didja?” She wiggles her eyebrows, laughing when Clarke shushes her hurriedly.

“He’s _right there,”_ Clarke whispers. “And no, I missed my bus and he was nice enough to offer me a ride home. That’s it.”

“Riiiight. And you happened to stop for milkshakes, hot dogs and junk food? This is totally a date, Griffin.”

“His car broke down,” her friend protests weakly. “We went looking for a gas station and ended up finding a convenience store. What was I supposed to do?”

“Make some new memories in the backseat, obviously,” Raven drawls. "Or the front, your pick."

Clarke opens her mouth, presumably to scold, when Bellamy and Wick stroll back. Raven winks at her before getting into Wick’s truck without a word. The smile he sends her way makes her all warm and fuzzy inside.

Asshole.

~~~~~~~~~

Wick looks rather thoughtful on the way back. 

“Careful,” she murmurs, “keep thinking so hard and you might hurt yourself.”

“Weak, Reyes.” At a stop sign, he leans over and nips at her earlobe, prompting a sigh to steal past her lips. He sits back with a satisfied smirk and continues to drive, while she considers how dangerous it would be to let her hand wander up his leg.

Probably not best-- not that she’s thinking about her safety, but the two fools in the Jeep behind them.

She checks the rearview mirror to make sure they are indeed still behind them, and that Bellamy hasn’t pulled over to start kissing Clarke already. Honestly she wonders what’s stopping him.

“Bellamy’s alright,” Wick says, mistaking her look for concern. 

“I’m sure he is, or Clarke wouldn’t be in his car right now.” 

“Ah. So she’s a good judge of character then?”

Raven grins. “Not always. In fact she’s far too trusting, as I’ve told her multiple times. But that’s just Clarke. Always looking for the good in people.”

“Well she’ll find a lot to like about Bellamy then,” Wick says firmly.

“I’m sure she will. But if I didn’t think your friend was okay, I’d have pulled her out of that Jeep myself.”

His shoulders shake with a laugh. “Guess I should’ve seen that coming.”

“Yes, you should have.” She settles back in her seat, fingers tapping along idly to the radio. Her eyes land on the Red Sox puppy, looking a bit worn out wedged between the dashboard and windshield. Clarke’s voice pops into her head.

_He deserves a name, you know._

Raven grins to herself. 

“What are you smiling at?” Wick’s attention lingers on her a little too long, until she pokes his chin back towards the road.

“Clarke would want to name him,” she says, nodding at the stuffed dog.

He chuckles. “Octavia already beat her to it. We call him Otto.”

“Something tells me they’ll get along just fine,” Raven says wryly.

After a few minutes, Wick says, “You know you don’t have to go to O’s to watch the game on Sunday, if you don’t want. I know she offered. But… we don’t have to. We can do anything you want.”

Amused, Raven tilts her head. “Did I say I’d go out with you again?”

He merely cocks an eyebrow. “You didn’t say you wouldn’t.”

Raven turns back to Otto, biting down a smile. “For the record, Octavia said I should come by _any_ Sunday, not this Sunday.” After a long minute, she quietly says, “But… it wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

She chances a peek at him, finding his gaze already on hers, teeth flashing brightly in a grin. “I’m sure you can bring Clarke too, if Bellamy doesn’t get there first,” he adds. “Does she like football?”

“How do you think we became friends?”

He laughs and nods, fingers tapping along the steering wheel. 

When they pull up to Clarke’s place again, Wick double parks on the street while Bellamy slides into an empty spot a few paces back. 

“So,” Wick says hopefully, “Sunday?”

“Sunday,” Raven confirms. She wipes suddenly sweaty palms on her skirt and swallows. “Um, don’t crash or anything on your way home.”

Wick bursts into laughter and cups a hand around her neck, pulling her to him. “You’re so bad at this,” he teases between kisses, and she bites his lip in response, finally letting her hand travel higher on his leg until he jumps and curses.

“Still bad at this?” She grins and kisses his cheek, hopping out before he can catch her.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” he calls through the window, but he’s smiling all the same.

“If you say so,” she replies sweetly. “Sweet dreams.”

Wick only laughs, mouthing _Sunday_ and wiggling his eyebrows. Raven sees Clarke still chatting with Bellamy, so she waits inside the doorway, occasionally peeking around to see which one of them is going to cave first. Wick appears to have the same idea, lingering a bit longer than necessary.

Then Clarke leans forward and kisses Bellamy, looking rather surprised at herself afterwards, but when he just pulls her back again, Raven smirks to herself and Wick takes that as his cue to drive off.

Clarke comes skipping to the door a minute later, cheeks reddened and smiling like she never plans to stop.

“Took you long enough,” Raven pokes her side as they head up the stairs.

Clarke sticks out her tongue. “Funny, I was going to say the same to you.” As she strides ahead, she calls, “Don’t give me the finger, Reyes.”

Raven grins and puts her hand down, following her friend into her apartment. She collapses on the couch with a sigh, hugging one of the striped pillows to her chest. Smiling, Clarke settles down beside her, and Raven lays her head on her shoulder.

“Nice hoodie,” she mumbles. “Smells greasy though.”

“You can thank the convenience store tacos for that.” Clarke doesn’t sound too put out by it.

“Bellamy’s going to ask you to watch the game on Sunday at his sister’s place,” Raven says after a moment.

Clarke chuckles. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. And if he doesn’t, he’s an idiot, and I’m dragging you there anyways because Octavia invited me and will probably invite you soon enough.”

“You met her?”

“Briefly. She’s cool.”

“Okay.” Clarke giggles and lays her cheek atop Raven’s head. “God, what a night.”

“You can say that again. Are you sure you didn’t make some kind of deal to get those magic powers?”

“Only that I had to use them for good,” Clarke throws an arm around her shoulders, sighing. “I’m so glad things worked out for you.”

“There’s still plenty that could go wrong. Like he could turn out to be an axe murderer, or only drink decaf, or be a _Jets_ fan--”

 _”Raven,”_ Clarke cuts in, exasperated, then smacks her cheek in a wet kiss. “I’m glad things worked out,” she repeats softly.

Raven allows herself to feel the first few giddy rays of hope. “Me too.”


End file.
